


Second Chance

by cortchuzska



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cortchuzska/pseuds/cortchuzska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Oberyn takes his seat at the Small Council, the old marriage proposal to Cersei is revived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Trap for Lions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Doran persuades Oberyn to honour their mother's old betrothing proposal.

“You will leave for King's Landing and claim Dorne seat at the Small Council. As for your betrothed..”

“My betrothed?” A quizzical furrow marked his brow. “Am I engaged?”

“You should remember her, Oberyn; she is one of your betrothed of old.”

“I’m positive I’ve never had one.”

“Your first one.”

“Doran, stop playing riddles and speak your mind. I have never even come close to a betrothal.”

“Once you were almost close.”

Oberyn realized.

“Are you kidding? You can’t possibly mean _her_.”

“We should honour our mother’s proposal.”

“Our mother’s offer traded two Martells for two Lannisters. Would you please remind them that, if I could be still a match for her, we are a Kingslayer short?”

“I’m sorry you can’t possibly marry both of them.”

“Are you planning to propose Arianne as well, and enlist an Oathbreaker as one of her many ineligible husbands? I’d rather have both of them killed, and their father for sure, and Tyrion just in case.”

“You forgot his wife, the Lady Sansa.”

“Even her, if need will be, and the Lannisters' seed rooted. Root them out so they cannot grow back.”

“That would call for the Starks’ revenge. Should we eradicate them as well?”

“No need for that. The Lannisters already did a deadly efficient clean-up job for us.”

“I will not let them do my job.”

“I have no such qualms. A Stark girl started it all, and the Starks were not less involved in it than the Baratheons in the rebellion.”

“Those are the Lannisters’ ways, not mine.”

“You pretend to be better than them: I want to beat them.”

“I don’t want to be better, but to best them.”

“Is that your way to fight them? Reviving a long forgotten allegiance by wedding?”

“We can’t rival them; we have nor their gold nor the power nor the men. May I remind you, that we never bowed to the Targaryens, that they never bent nor broke us, not nonetheless we were less powerful than the other Kingdoms, but _because_ we were, and we fought our way? The Lannisters will destroy themselves, their thirst for power will drown them.”

Doran paused smirking.

“We need just help them in the process. Lord Tywin is trying to get rid of the Queen Regent, marrying her off, and seize power for himself. Which I doubt our sweet twins will be contented with.”

“Why should Cersei Lannister marry into House Nymeros Martell?”

“She has been already offered to Willas Tyrell, and refused, as a too used item.”

“I'm flattered - Willas's leftovers. I thought he blossomed the same shade of pink of his brother Loras, and he has grown into the toy boy of the day: he wrote in his last letter there had been words about Sansa Stark too.”

“What did you expect, a blushing rose, brother? Yourself are past your prime, and could be considered an overused item.”

“Am I supposed to bed her? I wonder if I'm still up to it.”

“If you wish.” Oberyn knew he would; and Doran as well.

“Should I call Lord Tywin father?”

“I doubt he will appreciate that.”

“At least, a reasonable man.” He grinned. “Lord Tywin doesn’t take slights lightly; if he held any grudge, Cersei Lannister bolstered it.”

“Jaime Lannister was the one in King's Landing – the only one there when the Red Keep was taken.”

“He is not even in King's Landing now.”

“Where Cersei is, Jaime will follow soon.”

“So that's your plan to ensnare Jaime Lannister out of Lord Tywin's reach? You are setting a trap for lions; and I am to play the old goat as a bait.”

“You have fangs as well.”

“You are asking much.”

“You have enjoyed all the privileges of your status – and enjoyed yourself up to now more than befitting to a Prince; it's about time you confront with your responsibilities as well.”

“Only fun, and no responsibilities. Is that what you really think of me?” Oberyn mischievous smile was almost childish; and Doran smiled him back. “I'm no longer fifteen, Doran. No man is more frivolous than who takes himself too seriously.”

“I fear Lord Tywin – the never smiling Lion – suffers from this kind of vanity, and he will collapse under his proud perfection. A man always keeping stiff easily topples. A tilt, at the right time, would be enough. Are you afraid of Lions?”

Oberyn laughed.

“I have fangs, you said; but that will involve Ellaria and my girls.”

“I need you not to shun your duties.”

“I don't shun them, but I have rather my own views on them. As life goes on and we earn new ones. Ellaria has no responsibility to our sister, but I have to her, and to my daughters. I will comply on condition: if she doesn't agree, it is naught.”

“I'm quite sure you can persuade her, if you try.”

“I'm not sure I will try.” He sneered. “But I will tell her, and the girls.”

“You can't tell your daughters until arrangements are complete. Children are not to be trusted.”

“I should have imagined. They are not children, but then you did not even trust Arianne with _her_ betrothal. I guess I should deem myself lucky you informed me about mine.”

“Regard it as a token of my high esteem for you. I don't expect my nieces will be overly happy to call Cersei mother; on a brighter side, you will be certainly pleased with Myrcella calling you dad.”

“That could almost win me over; I have a soft spot for bastard girls, you know.” Oberyn squinted wickedly. “I halfway suspect they are the best.”

  
  



	2. Once I had a swetheart

****“Did I please you, my lord? Was I good enough?” Cersei sneered.

“I hope you did not overdo yourself. I'm taking Lord Tywin can be overly persuasive.”

“So did I pass your scrutiny? How do you call it at Oldtown Citadel, did I forge my link?”

“Were we good for you? You should have realized what you are getting into. Can you fully consent to our marriage, with no grudges?

“My consent? As you said, my lord father is exceedingly persuasive. I was not given the option to back out.”

“I was. If you wish so, just tell, and I will back out for you.”

“Such a honourable man you are, Prince. I shouldn't have expected less of your gallantry to women, and chivalrous repute.”

“It's not out of my well known reputation of kindness and sympathy to your fair sex, Your Grace.” Oberyn mocked back. “If I had any, I wouldn't waste it with you. Am I wrong, assuming Ellaria Sand is not provided for in our Houses pacts? If you can't freely accept, backing out it's the only way I have to protect her. You – and the Lannisters - are not known as peculiarly willing to share, nor to come second.”

“I'm afraid you grossly overestimated your manly graces.” Cersei coughed politely, and snidely added. “I'm already used to share a husband with whores.”

“And get some of them killed, it's rumoured. I'm afraid I could underestimate you are a Lannister, my lady, and your Lannisters' traits: unyielding pride and ruthlessness. Lord Tywin will not hinder you back, if you plot anything against Ellaria, nor will my brother ask embarrassing questions afterwards; she is nothing.”

Prince Oberyn stared at her.

“We have avoided asking indiscreet questions for over seventeen years.”

He caught both her hands. “Why my sister, Cersei?”

“My father had no reason to have her killed.”

“I have been told that tale to no end. No feasible political reason, and your father is so rational and politic. Why her children? Do you love yours, Cersei? Do you miss Myrcella?”

She kept silent.

“As a pledge of fealty to the Robert Baratheon, because they were heirs to Rhaegar Targaryen.”

“Why King Aerys? They should have taken care of him earlier, and his is not the story I'm mostly interested in hearing from the Kingslayer.”

Oberyn clenched her wrists.

“He was sworn to protect the King, and killed him. He was sworn to protect the royal family, and did nothing.”

“The Red Keep was being sacked. How could a man alone keep the rabble at bay? I have seen in the riots in King's Landing.”

“You have; and during the attack on King's Landing you ordered Ilyn Payne a sword for you and Sansa Stark.”

His eyes latched with Cersei.

”As for the rabble, he should have killed her before the Red Keep gates burst open. It was not the rabble, but your father's most trusted men.”

Prince Oberyn drew closer.

“All it would have taken your brother to still them, was sitting in her rooms, playing cyvasse in the wait and greeting them. A “Nice to meet you, how's dad?” would have done: Lord Tywin values discipline more than mad, foolish fury.”

Prince Oberyn squeezed her wrists stronger, and her bones ground, and she bit her lips to stifle a wail.

“Why Elia? Why _Gregor Clegane_?”

He gazed at her, and as he had suddenly realized he was hurting her, dropped her arms.

He added with a level voice. “Of course, your father had no reason for that. At least, no political reason.”

Oberyn set firmly his hands at her neck sides, pinning her to the wall, absent-mindedly stroking his thumbs on her throat.

He hissed softly at her ears. “You don't like being set aside. You didn't like being set aside because of my sister.” He shifted his hands to her shoulder, and lightly pressed a kiss at her neck hollow.

He stepped back.

“My lady, if so you wish, pray tell me, and I will back out.” He kissed a hand she struggled not to quiver.

“May I plead for your forgiveness, if I took too many liberties with you?” His smile was quick and easy. “After all, we are on the way to betrothal.” Ducking his head in a bow, he took his leave.

He had turned to the old fashioned, impeccable manners of Targaryens' court, mostly lost during Robert's reign; exquisite manners she loved when showing sometimes in her brother; the same manners now running cold chills down her spine.

Cersei slumped back against the wall, rubbed her wrists, and only then permitted herself a gasp. Her father was willing to trade her in marriage to a half mad man, but she would not back out. Could Pyke be worst? She was a lioness, and she would fight in the glory of the sun rather than be forgotten in the hazy mists of the Iron Islands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_k7sXvt8cc


	3. Home Memories

“Come up here, Oberyn: are you saving yourself for Cersei? Neither of you had legit children.” Ellaria tapped her fingers.

“Neither ever wanted to. Surprising how much we share.” He replied shortly.

“You don't sound that involved about your fiancée. Bedding the Queen Regent of the Seven Kingdoms was quite an achievement.”

Oberyn couldn't help smiling at her teasingly. “I'd never thought you were so ambitious. I'm lucky we never attended court during King Robert's reign. Did you really like it with her?”

“A bit too rush, I guess. Somehow, I quite pity her. I doubt our poor twins ever enjoyed a quiet time together. Just a quick tryst from time to time between shifts and watches, enlivened by risk of being caught.”

“Risk and danger can be so exciting.”

“They can rather become a bad habit, at length, nerve-racking. Too fast and furious.” Ellaria cooed back. ”Slower ways are better.”

“They say we are so similar, but sometimes when I listen to you I hear my brother's words.”

“A bliss you share with Doran much more than you would believe, my prince.”

“We'd better change House Martell sigil into a pillow and a shade then.”

“Maybe you should. I find intriguing the idea of training her on looser, more relaxed practice; don't you?”

“Ellaria, the lioness tamer? I hope you will not be that disappointed if there will be no betrothal.”

“She quite enjoyed it, yesterday. How could it be?”

“I paid the due morning-after call on the Queen, and all went awfully wrong.”

“What did you do, Oberyn?”

“I am a moron: Doran will be wroth and will soon decide to establish diplomatic relations with Asshai, or better still Old Valyria, and dispatch me there as his ambassador. That's what I deserve. Good job really.”

“Won't you tell me what happened?”

“Here I see Elia everywhere: the Red Keep reminds me of her more than the Water Gardens where we grew up and were children together. Much has changed since, but some views are just the same, and it's like I'm back after leaving for a few days only. I'm taken aback and I think she is beside me, and I can't help turning my head at her, before I realize it's futile. Suddenly I expect to hear Rhaegar's silvery laughters, or Rhaenys' hushed footsteps, when she was chasing her kittens, and I feel like Elia has just stepped out of the room.”

His voice grew hoarser.

“Cersei dwells in my sister's apartments, Ellaria, not in Queen Rhaella's; and she has not changed them much. Not even the tapestries – all golden and crimson – are that different in colour, and light is the same. When Elia was ill, and it happened all too often, I passed whole hours there, reading to her or playing cyvasse. No matter where he had passed the night, you would certainly find Rhaegar every morning on a window seat singing his harp, while my sister was dressing her hair. The same table where she would sit is now Cersei's; only the cyvasse board where we played is missing, and Rhaegar's scores.”

Oberyn paused.

 _'The same room_. _I could hear her scream. '_


End file.
